'Where's apba?' Zitao asked, rubbing his eye with a pout. Yixing scooped his son into his arms and pecked the boy's cheek.
'Your appa's gone to Busan for work, Tao-zi. Do you want baba to make you some eggs?'
'I don't want to eat, apba,' the boy whined, hiding his face in his younger father's shoulder.
'Zitao, don't you love your baba's eggs?'
'Baba,' Sehun piped up, entering the kitchen and hopping onto a chair.
'Wear some pants, Seh---'
'I don't want to, though.'
'Even I don't want to!' Zitao declared, wiggling till he was set down and tugging his pajama pants off.
'Look at apba, Sehunnie-hyung!' Zitao clapped, laughing and pointing up at Yixing's stunned face.
'Tao!' Sehun hissed. 'Call him "baba" else we won't get chocolate milk!'

 

'Boys, listen to me,' Junmyeon sighed, pulling Zitao into his lap. Sehun stopped running around and sat between his fathers, resting his head against Yixing's bicep.
'This is getting too confusing - when you call us "apba", we're not sure who you're calling for.'
'But it's easy!' Zitao pouted, hitting the top of his head lightly against Junmyeon's jaw. 'You're apba, and you're apba!'

'See? This is what I mean! What if we called both of you "baby" only, how would you know who we're calling?'
Sehun struggled to come up with an answer and Zitao only huffed defiantly.

'So we've decided this: from now onwards; you're to call me "appa" and your father "baba", okay?' Junmyeon finally said, specifically pointing to himself and Yixing respectively.

'What do we get for doing that?' Sehun sat upright, his eyes shining.
'Ah, these little devils,' Yixing chuckled, pinching Sehun's cheeks.



The five year old Chinese boy gasped and scrambled to sit opposite his brother, folding his arms and looking up at Yixing expectantly.
'Hi, baba,' he smiled sweetly. Yixing chuckled to himself and set two glasses of milk before his sons.

'Drink slowly while I make breakfast, okay?'
The two boys nodded and carefully held their cups with both their hands, going cross-eyed as they drank their milk. Yixing soon set two plates of scrambled eggs before them and served himself.

'Apb--- baba, where's your milk?' Zitao asked.
'I already finished my tea, baby,' came the light reply. 'Come on, now. Eat up, both of you!'











Yixing's phone rang just as Sehun and Zitao had gone to their rooms to change into their uniforms.
'Good morning, darling,' Junmyeon greeted.
'Good morning, Myeonnie. Did you reach safely?'
'Yeah, we're all at the hotel right now. My meeting starts in two hours, so I've some time to myself. Are the boys ready for school?'
'Almost. Say, you---'

Yixing got cut off by Junmyeon laughing as another male's voice came through, talking about pleasant weather and strolling.

'Junmyeon? Who was that?'
'Ah, that's Choi Minho. You rememb---'
'Hello?' a deeper voice cut in and Yixing frowned to himself, heading upstairs to help his sons get dressed.
'Er, hello?'
'So you're Yixing? You're the one crazy for this kid here---'
Some shuffling and light argument could be heard before Junmyeon took over the call once more.

'Ignore Minho-hyung. He's just had too much coffee--- Go away, hyung! I'll take a walk with you later--- what were you saying, Yixing?'
'You seem awfully close to him... I didn't know he'd be there...'
'I know, right? I didn't, either. Turns out he's filling in for someone who couldn't make it.'

Yixing only hummed, immersed in his thoughts as he put the phone on speaker to let Junmyeon talk to their sons.















'I don't like this, though,' Yixing murmured to himself, absent-mindedly staring at the drama playing on the television.


'Junmyeon! Where's your car?'
'Ah, I left it at the law firm, I---'
'You went drinking,' Yixing shook his head, pulling his husband in and closing the front door. Junmyeon hummed and took his clothes off as he headed upstairs, Yixing trailing after him.

'We should all go drinking someday...' Junmyeon thought out loud, throwing himself onto the bed clad only in his underwear.
'That won't be possible, though,' the younger male chuckled.

'Wha...? Why not? Come here,' the older male pouted, grinning when Yixing crawled into bed and nestled into his embrace.

'Damn, you must have drunk a lot because you're usually hold your alcohol well.'
'Why can't we go?' Junmyeon pursued, blinking slowly.

'Well... Jongdae-hyung's spending time at home with Luhan and refuses to leave, Minseok-hyung's not yet back from his project, Chanyeol-hyung is busy with the production house... Kris, Eunji-noona and Yejoon-hyung are the only free ones.'
'... That's... too much!' Junmyeon yelled, hiding his face in Yixing's neck. The younger male squealed and squirmed - his neck was way too sensitive - and pushed his husband's head away.

'Why... Yixing...?'
'You're tickling me, baby,' Yixing laughed, letting Junmyeon rest his head on his chest.

'Mm... you know Minho-hyung? He's so good... we went drinking and... and noraebang...'
'Minho-sshi again,' Yixing thought to himself with a frown. 'It's always been about him lately...'

'Junmy---'
'And he even paid for my drinks and food! How--- how cool is that?'
'Jun---'
'I like Minho-hyung...' Junmyeon trailed off, closing his eyes and hugging Yixing tighter. Just as Yixing parted his lips to speak, he heard the older male's light snores and sighed to himself.

















Ignoring the television, Yixing sat straight and grabbed his phone from the coffee table, texting Junmyeon.

Hey~ is your meeting over? Don't forget to have lunch!


He fiddled with his phone, staring at the screen hard.

Seen at 3:21pm.


'You've got to be kidding me,' he thought to himself as ten whole minutes passed but he still didn't get a reply - Junmyeon never did that to him before. Yixing bit his lower lip and slumped into the sofa, lying down with his head on the armrest.

He knew he was being immature, but he couldn't help feeling insecure.
'It's only been about Minho-sshi since he rejoined the firm...' Yixing sighed to himself. His phone buzzed and he checked the message.

Yes.

Frowning, he called his husband.

'Junmy---'
'Hyung, give my phone back!' Yixing hea